


Tumbling Towards Together

by Captain_Loki



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banter, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 22:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Loki/pseuds/Captain_Loki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their road wasn't mile marked by the normal rites of passage: first date, first kiss, consummation…their path was more a slip’n’slide, awkward fumbling and bumping into one another, tripping over each other and injuries both literal and figurative, emotional and physical. But they both agree it pretty much began that one time they were trapped in an underground bunker by meddling fairies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tumbling Towards Together

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been clawing its way out of my head for awhile so hopefully I will be able to update it on the regular if there is actual interest beyond my own fangirling over myself (its one kind of coping mechanism).

There are people going missing in Beacon Hills, and Derek is really starting to question how the real estate market hasn’t seemed to suffer as of late.

“Let’s look at the facts,” Stiles says beside him, and Derek huffs and shakes his head.

“Great, here we go,” he mumbles sarcastically under his breath, quickening his pace in front of Stiles.

“Hey,” Stiles grouses, speeding up to match him. “I’m not saying it’s aliens but…” he trails off, shooting Derek a smirk. Derek ignores him and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“It’s not aliens, Stiles,” he doesn’t know why he bothers anymore, really.

“Oh c’mon, Derek, even you have to admit the circumstances are _perfect_. People going missing and wandering out of the woods a few days later with _amnesia_ , that’s like…it’s aliens,” Stiles nods. Derek squints at him, there’s no blip in his pulse and he sighs because he’s pretty sure Stiles is dead serious.

“It’s not _aliens_ ,” Derek tells him, annoyed.

“Well, why not?” Stiles asks, disappointed.

“Because even if aliens existed, why the hell would they be kidnapping the citizens of Beacon Hills?” Derek asks.

“Experiments, obviously,” Stiles tells him, he trips over a tree root and Derek snatches at his elbow and hauls him up. “Thanks, and like freaky alien probing and stuff,” Stiles nods.

“You’re an idiot,” Derek informs him, politely.

“Ugh, Scott would totally humor my alien theory dude, how did we even end up getting paired together? _Again_ ,” Stiles huffs. Derek looks him up and down speculatively.

“It’s always safest to put the weakest member of the group with strongest,” he says, tone serious, biting back the smirk at Stiles’ look of outrage, “you know, for your own _safety_.” Stiles stops walking to gape at him. Derek moves forward and pushes a hand against his chin, Stiles slaps it away in annoyance. “You’ll catch flies.”

“You’ll catch my fist in your smarmy face, ass hat,” Stiles snaps. Derek turns around and continues stalking through the woods, trees becoming thicker and thicker the further they move. There’s no sound apart from the wind rustling the leaves, the flutter of wings from the birds darting in and out of the canopy above, and the occasional snapping of twigs from chipmunks scurrying through the forest.

“Wait…what is that?” Derek asks, suddenly, peering up ahead.

“What do your wolf eyes see?” Stiles asks, lowering his voice in a gruff imitation. Derek shoots him a look. “Oh hey, what _is_ that?” Stiles agrees, coming up to stand beside Derek, he squints through the thickening underbrush.

“Looks like some kind of bunker or something,” Derek says and they make their way towards it.

“You know, maybe it isn’t even supernatural at all, maybe it’s just some crazy hermit in the woods or something,” Stiles reasons.

“I don’t hear or smell anyone,” he answers as they approach the metal structure.

“It looks like a hobbit hole,” Stiles remarks, moving closer to the large heavy metal door, circular in shape and ajar. Derek thrusts a hand out to stop him and Stiles looks up.

“You said it was empty,” Stiles tells him.

“I said there was no one in it,” Derek corrects. “Could still be dangerous,” he reasons.

“Okay, well I’m going in,” Stiles huffs, throwing Derek’s arm off.

“Stop being stubborn and rebellious,” Derek huffs, pushing him out of the way to take the lead.

“I’m a teenager, I’m supposed to be stubborn and rebellious,” Stiles points out.

“You’re almost an adult,” Derek responds, throwing him a look over his shoulder.

“Only legally,” Stiles says. “What’s your excuse?” He mumbles. Derek shoots him a look and opens his mouth but before he has a chance to respond Stiles says, “if you say ‘I’m the Alpha’ I will literally punch you in the throat.” He snaps his mouth shut and turns to look inside the bunker.

It’s smaller than Derek was expecting, dark, dingy, slightly ominous though there isn’t anything to suggest anyone had been there in some time. There are alcoves built into the metal walls that look like they might have once housed radios but they’re mostly empty now save for the occasional scrap or spare part.

“Is there anything dangerous?” Stiles asks him, but Derek shakes his head, almost disappointed. He picks up a heavy rock from just outside the door and props it open, just in case, before he moves further into the bunker. Stiles blocks the light spilling in from the open doorway momentarily as he moves inside. Derek realizes too late the dwindling light source isn’t from Stiles, and the telltale creak of metal makes him turn around sharply, but the door is already swinging shut with a loud, final echoing _thunk_.

“Stiles!” Derek shouts, irritated. He stalks over and tries to pry the door open, but it won’t budge.

“Dude,” Stiles says, he rustles around in his pocket for a moment and then there’s the sound of jangling keys before a small beam of a flashlight is shining in his face.

“Put that _down_ ,” Derek snaps, Stiles apologizes and lowers it. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Derek asks.

“Ummm…could you be more specific?” Stiles asks. Derek rolls his eyes, gestures to the door. “I didn’t do that, you’re the one who put the damn rock there, it’s not my fault!” Stiles shouts.

“There was nothing wrong with the rock Stiles, the door didn’t just shut on its own!”

“Well I dunno what to tell you big guy but it wasn’t me,” Stiles says, scowling.

“Well, who else could it have been Stiles? I suppose it was the aliens too,” Derek snaps.

“Funny,” Stiles remarks, dryly. “Can’t you just like…werewolf it open?” Stiles asks.

“Oh, good idea Stiles,” Derek nods, “I must have completely forgotten in the presence of your grand intellect, my mistake.”

“Oh wow, choking on the sarcasm over here,” Stiles replies, clutching at his throat with the hand not holding the bobbing flashlight.

“Good, may you asphyxiate on your own stupidity,” Derek says.

“Are all wolves born with sticks up their asses or is that like a special kind of personality trait?” Stiles wonders. Derek makes a face at him and tries once again to pry the door open. He works at it for several minutes, shoulders bruising and healing with every smash against the unyielding metal. He stops to catch his breath and hears what sounds like the rustle of a plastic wrapper and turns around. Stiles is sitting with his back against the opposite side of the small underground room, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, eating what is unmistakably a Reese’s peanut butter cup. Derek stares at him in utter disbelief.

“Where did you even get that?” He asks. Stiles licks chocolate off the tip of his index and makes a long show of scraping peanut butter off the roof of his mouth, smacking his lips before answering.

“I always keep rations,” he replies, finally. Derek rolls his eyes.

“Like a regular boy scout,” Derek huffs, moving over to collapse next to Stiles.

“I _was_ a boy scout,” Stiles says, indignant. Derek lifts a brow in question. “For like a day until they told my dad they didn’t think I was a very good fit for their institution,” Stiles tells him. Derek barks out a laugh, clutching at his protesting abs.

“You got kicked out of the boy scouts?” He asks, to clarify.

“Technically it was the cub scouts, and I didn’t get kicked out I just…” Derek stares at him and Stiles shrugs with a small laugh, “yeah okay I got kicked out.”

“The boy scouts is stupid anyway,” Derek reasons. Stiles nods in agreement. “They’re also anti-gay,” Derek says, and then he flushes, unsure why he says it, it’s something he remembers reading about recently, and Derek is tragically not good at small talk. Stiles’ heart rate speeds up a fraction, it’s almost imperceptible but it’s there, picked up further in the acoustics of the small metal room.

“Are you?” He asks, staring down at the open package in his lap. “Anti…I mean?”

“What? No,” he says, surprise and indignation warring together.

“Good,” Stiles says, he sounds almost defiant about it and Derek opens his mouth, licks across his bottom lip and asks as nonchalantly as possible,

“Why, are you…you know…” he doesn’t finish the sentence but he feels Stiles shrug against him, he doesn’t realize how close they’re sitting until he feels Stiles’ shoulder brushing against his own. He thinks it’d be weird to scooch over now though, and he finds he doesn’t really want to.

“No, not really,” Stiles shrugs, he doesn’t sound defensive, and he doesn’t sound necessarily convincing but his heart rate doesn’t change, if anything it starts to slow.

“Do you want one?” He asks suddenly. Derek’s brows knit together confused and he turns to where Stiles is looking at him.

“A gay?” He asks. Stiles rolls his eyes dramatically and Derek bites back a smirk.

“No, dumb ass, a peanut butter cup,” he holds it out to Derek. Derek stares at it suspiciously. “It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re worried about.” Derek takes it, their fingers bumping as he scoops it up out of Stiles’ hand. It’s half melted but it tastes fine, even if it makes his fingers sticky with chocolate, which he wants to refuse to lick off on general principle, but he doesn’t want to wipe them on his jeans either so he sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth and tries to ignore the way Stiles’ eyes linger on the movement.

“So,” Stiles starts, after a minute, clearing his throat, “do you think whatever trapped us in here is the same thing kidnapping people?” He asks.

“Who says something trapped us in here,” Derek says.

“I didn’t. Move. The. God. Damn. _Rock_ ,” Stiles huffs, punctuating his sentence with deeply scowling looks.

“Who did? Fairies?” Derek asks, sarcastic. Stiles looks at him for a long moment, he sucks his top lip into his mouth and doesn’t say anything. “You’re serious?”

“Well, not fairies exactly,” Stiles amends and Derek sighs in relief and relaxes back against the wall. “Leprechauns, specifically.” Derek thunks his head against the metal of the wall and sighs heavily.

“Okay, so, let me just recap,” Derek says, he pushes himself to his feet and stares down at Stiles. “Your brilliant deductions so far have been ‘aliens’ and ‘ _leprechauns_ ’?”

“I’ve been doing research—“ Stiles starts, hauling himself up.

“Stiles,” he says, like he’s speaking to someone very slow. “Episodes of Supernatural are not in fact, legitimate sources of information.”

“That’s just a coincidence,” Stiles argues. “Besides, I can’t help it if life imitates fiction.”

“Leprechauns don’t _exist Stiles,_ ” Derek shouts, his voice echoes across the small chamber and Stiles looks around as though he can see the sound waves reverberating.

“Ca-caw ca-caw!” Stiles shouts, smirking at the way it bounces around.

“Stiles!”

“Sorry,” Stiles says, but he’s laughing. Derek claws the pads of his fingers down his face in irritation.

“Oh _my God_ , you are so…you are so _annoying_ ,” he says, frustrated beyond reason, staring at Stiles in sick fascination.

“You’re annoyinger,” Stiles gripes, scowling at him.

“That’s not even a word, Stiles!” Derek shouts, and he knows Stiles is just trying to wind him up, he also knows that Stiles knows it’s working because he makes a face at him.

“Are you _four_?” Derek snaps, moving towards him.

“and three quarters,” he says proudly. Derek’s chest tightens on a sharp intake of breath, he can see Laura’s face hovering just outside of his consciousness, can hear her laughing ‘and a half’ like she always would when he’d ask it of her in a snap, when she’d stick her wet fingertip in his ear or flick him on the nose while he tried to read. Stiles reminds him so much of her when they get like this, no real heat behind the words or the bickering anymore, not like it was before the Alpha Pack. It reminds him of the times spent fighting with Laura, in the easy good natured way they’d rib at each other, the prank wars they’d start, domestic and childish: fake spiders in the shower and elastics on the tap in the kitchen sink and the incident with the buttered kitchen floor and the sprained ankle Derek had to apologize for because how was he supposed to know she’d have a date over that night?

He can hear Stiles’ heart beating rapid beneath his sternum and he realizes with a surprised jolt that he’s closed the distance between them somehow, or maybe Stiles has, he isn’t sure. All he knows is suddenly there’s barely a foot of distance between them and Stiles is staring up at him, mouth doing that fish gaping thing again, all slicked with spit, chocolate in the corner. He smells like peanut butter and Derek doesn’t even really like peanut butter that much but he’s pretty sure he’s suddenly become kind of a fan and he scowls at the pavlovian joke in there somewhere and Stiles looks up at him in confusion and he really needs to tame his internal monologuing sometimes and suddenly Stiles is looking like he’s about to press forward and— _BANG._

The door opens suddenly, spilling harsh daylight into the small room, Stiles jumps a foot in the air and Derek whips around, arm coming out to block Stiles protectively, but it’s only Boyd and Erica staring at them in concern from the opening of the bunker.

“You guys okay?” Boyd asks.

“Peachy,” Stiles says, and he shoots a confused glance at Derek before he’s pushing past him and the others to get outside. Derek pauses for a moment to catch breath he didn’t know he was laboring with before moving to join them.

It turns out it _was_ leprechauns.


End file.
